


For You the World

by foolofatook001



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom, Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: "My first day on the server! I killed my son. It was pogCHAMP. And then I cried", Angst, Dadza, Dadza Angst?, Gen, Phil's got wings Because I Say So, TW for I guess kind of suicidal Wilbur?, don't worry there's fun stuff too I promise, don't worry though Ghostbur's in it, just gonna tell you that right now, sips water, the major character death is wilbur
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-30
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:36:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28649160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foolofatook001/pseuds/foolofatook001
Summary: In which Phil joins the server and the choices made in his first five minutes have repercussions far into the future. A Phil-focused piece, going through events on the server from his joining to... well I'm not sure how current it's going to get. But at least up to the Butcher Army bit. Rated T for violence and suicidal themes.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s), seriously guys y'all know the drill by now
Comments: 2
Kudos: 39





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> All right, guys, Philza Minecraft (the creator of Minecraft himself :P) is one of the best characters on the SMP and since I've done focused pieces for my other two favorite characters, I couldn't just leave him out!
> 
> Dialogue is taken from the various streams for the most part, although I do paraphrase often. All the Ranboo stuff is purely from my own head because I don't have the time to dig through the streams and find the actual thing. 
> 
> This chapter opens with Wilbur's death, so fair warning. I don't get overly graphic but it is there.

He is shoveling sand on his own little world, filling in a lava pool, when the message on his communicator pops up. 

**_Unknown:_ ** _you’re needed_

_ come to the server_

The second message is a link with transport coordinates, and Phil stares at the communicator for a moment. The coordinates are listed as belonging to the Dream SMP. He knows several people in the Dream SMP — his sons are there, as well as one of his oldest friends— and he keeps up on the big news that leaks out here and there, but he’s never been invited to visit. 

And now he’s ‘needed’?

The transport coordinates put him at the end of a long tunnel, clearly carved through the heart of a mountain. It opens up into a small room that has one chair and his son in it, words messily scratched into the stone walls.

Wilbur is slumped against the wall, his clenched fist resting just above an innocuous wooden button, and Phil’s heart stops for a moment.

He knows what that button means; he heard about it from Tommy’s last rushed message, a week or so ago. 

Plan B.

“What are you doing?” he asks, his voice flat. Wilbur cannot do this. Phil’s only been on the server for thirty seconds, max, but he’ll be damned if this city gets blown up and he could have prevented it.

“Phil!” Wilbur swings around, panic in his face and voice. “What— how did you get here?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Phil says, waving a hand. “I knew I was needed. Wil, what do you think you’re doing?”

“Nothing, nothing,” Wilbur says, his hands moving twitchily at his sides. He keeps shooting sideways glances at the button beside him. “We just — we just won the war, Phil! Schlatt died, Schlatt’s gone, _finally_. And we made Tubbo president; he’ll do so well, I’m sure. Technoblade even helped! You remember him, don’t you? Everyone’s celebrating.”

“Mm-hm,” says Phil, moving a little closer to his son. “So why aren’t you?”

Wilbur seems to flounder a little. He can’t meet Phil’s gaze. “I— er—” His eyes dart over to the button again. “Do you know what this button is?” he asks quietly.

“I do,” Phil says, matching his son’s volume, moving a little closer. Wilbur is on edge, and one wrong move could send him over it. But Phil knows he can talk Wilbur out of this. He raised him, cared for him. He knows how to handle him.

“Have you heard the song on the walls before?” Wilbur’s voice is shaky.

“I have,” Phil says gently. Talk it out, just talk it out. No need to escalate this, he thinks, willing Wilbur to calm down.

“I was just making a point — it was very poignant and significant and all that — that there _was_ a special place… but it’s not there anymore,” says Wilbur, and his dark brown eyes catch Phil’s finally. There’s something strange and broken in them, and Phil takes another step forward purely on instinct, hand reaching out to comfort.

“But it _is_ there, Wil,” he argues, keeping his voice soft. “You’ve just won it back.”

“Phil, I’m always _so close_ to pressing this button!” Wilbur suddenly screams, grabbing his temples, hands digging into his brown curls. Phil freezes, hand still outstretched. “I have been here… seven or eight times I have been here. I’ve been here so many times,” he whispers, rocking back on his heels and squeezing his eyes shut. 

Fireworks are going off on the other side of the wall; Phil’s communicator keeps buzzing with death notifications. 

“They’re fighting,” says Wilbur with a light, almost hysterical laugh, turning back toward the button.

“And you want to just blow it all up?” Phil asks, striving to keep his voice quiet and even, to try and get Wilbur from his wild mood swings. 

Wilbur lets out a long sigh, his hands slowly falling to his sides. “I do,” he breathes. “I think— I—”

“You fought so hard to get here, to get this place back,” Phil argues, trying to get him to _see_. 

Wilbur’s hands twitch. “I don’t even know if this button works anymore,” he admits, softly. “I could — Phil, I _could_ — I could press it, and it might not…”

“You don’t want to take that risk,” Phil says firmly, taking a step toward Wilbur again.

“There was a saying, Phil,” Wilbur says, backing one step away from him.

One step closer to the button.

“A saying by a traitor.” Wilbur’s mouth quirks up into a kind of twisted smile. “It was never meant to be.”

And then he slams his fist down on the button. 

“Oh my God,” says Phil, and then he is diving forward, tackling Wilbur, shielding him with his wings as eleven and a half stacks of TNT underneath L’Manberg all go off. He can feel the shards of rock slicing through his clothes, his feathers.

Wilbur has tears running down his cheeks and a wild look in his eyes. He scrambles away from Phil as the dust settles, light streaming in from the missing back wall of Wilbur’s secret room.

The city outside is in ruins, the smoke still rising from the rubble. 

“ _My_ L’Manberg, Phil!” Wilbur shouts, flinging his arms out in an all-encompassing gesture, a manic grin nearly splitting his face in two, even as the tears stream from his eyes. “My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished! If I can’t have this, no one can, Phil!”

Phil stares at him, aghast. He knows how much Wilbur has put into this country of his. He thought he could reason with his son, make him realize what he had achieved. 

Clearly he was wrong. 

There is no reasoning with madness.

Wilbur draws his sword, that wild, crazed look still in his eyes. “Phil, kill me,” he says, shoving the sword into Phil’s hand; Phil grips it automatically. “Come on, Phil, do it, kill me, kill me.” He points out toward the city, where the rest of the people involved in this war have gathered, stunned into a moment of truce. “They all want you to. Do it, Phil, kill me. Do it—”

“You’re my son!” Phil shouts, raising his voice for the first time, his hands shaking. He can’t— he _can’t_ do this. His wings flare out behind him defensively, twinging with pain.

“Phil, _kill me!”_ Wilbur screams.

“No!” Phil screams back. “I can’t— no matter what you’ve done, I’m not going to—”

“DO IT!” Wilbur roars. “Look at all of this, look! Look how much work went into this and it’s gone. If you don’t do it, they will, Phil,” he says, as the people begin to converge. “I’ll be dead either way but I’d prefer you did it.” He moves closer until the tip of the sword held loosely in Phil’s hand is pressing into his chest, making a small hole in the ragged fabric of his white shirt. “Kill me, Phil,” Wilbur begs, fresh tears making tracks through the dirt and ash on his face, his brown eyes pleading. 

Phil has never been able to refuse his son’s pleading eyes. 

He screws his own eyes shut and drives the blade home.

There is a scream from outside — he’s not sure who. Maybe he’s the one screaming. Maybe it’s all in his head. He slumps down with Wilbur, cradling him to his chest as his son takes his last rattling breaths.

“Dream— Dream said there was no traitor,” Wilbur whispers, his lips barely moving. Phil has to lean his head close to hear. “But he lied, Phil. He _lied_. It’s Technoblade, the traitor is Technoblade…” His head lolls back with one last exhale. There is a beatific smile on his face.

Phil lets out a cry of anguish. “God! You couldn’t just win!” But there is no time yet to grieve. He has another son out there and there is still danger. He carefully lays down Wilbur’s body — no respawn this time — and shoots into the air, ignoring the pain in his wings, bloody sword still in hand, ready to defend his sons’ home.

-0-

In the aftermath of the Withers, the fighting, the TNT, Technoblade strides through the ruins of L’Manberg, netherite armor gleaming with enchantment and red cape flowing proudly from his shoulders, a crossbow held loosely in one hand. Phil watches from up on the hillside as the Blade prowls, looking for anyone who would dare to start a government in his presence, and decides to have a bit of a chat.

He glides down and alights next to Techno, wings folding in with barely a rustle, and to the pig-man’s credit, he doesn’t even flinch. “Hallo, Phil,” he says, a slight grin on his face — the adrenaline of the battle, of victory, must still be running high for him. 

“Wilbur told me you were the traitor,” Phil says, without preamble. “But that wasn’t exactly true, was it?”

The grin disappears at the mention of Wilbur’s name, but Technoblade only shrugs. “I told them I wouldn’t stand for a government, that I was in it for takin’ down the system,” he says. “Kinda their fault for ignorin’ that, if you ask me.”

Phil makes a noncommittal noise. He’s trying to hold the grief back and talking about inter-faction politics is serving as a good distraction. “So you’re an anarchist now?” he says, keeping his tone light. “Long way from our Antarctic Empire days.”

“This server needs a little humbling,” Techno says, gazing out over the ruins. “Figure I’m the right man for the job.” He turns to eye Phil carefully. “Do you want to, uh…” He trails off awkwardly and gestures toward the remains of Wilbur’s button room. “...talk?” he finishes, hesitantly. Technoblade has never been particularly good with social situations, and asking one’s oldest friend how they’re doing after having to kill their own son is a tough one even for someone who’s good with people.

Phil can appreciate the sentiment, since he knew Techno wouldn’t be offering if he didn’t care, but he shakes his head anyway. “No, I’d… I’d rather not,” he says. 

The look of relief on Techno’s face makes him laugh a little, prompting a sheepish grin from the younger warrior. 

“Do you need anything? Armor? Food?” Techno glances at Phil’s wings, the feathers still a bit tattered from the blast. “Potions?” He fixes Phil with a surprisingly earnest look. “I have a ton of stuff, I can definitely give you some.”

“Thanks, but I’ll manage. I’ve got— I’ve got Wil’s things,” he says (he is proud — his voice does not break over his son’s name). “And I think I’ll be staying here for a little while, to see to Tommy and make sure everyone’s all right.”

Technoblade nods. “You can still come to my base if you need to,” he tells Phil. “If you ever get tired of the whole government thing. It’s been a while.”

“I might take you up on that, mate,” Phil says, thoughtfully.

-0-

Phil sits on the edge of one of the buildings, looking out over the crater that runs right through the middle of L’Manberg. He is contemplating the last few hours -- _It was never meant to be. Phil, kill me, please, kill me_ \-- when someone clears their throat behind him. He shifts around quickly to see who it is, his hand going to the hilt of his sword and his wings flaring out.

Dream raises his hands in a universal _hey-don’t-kill-me_ gesture. Phil does not relax his guard.

“I’m not here to start a fight,” Dream says, sounding bored beneath the mask. “I just wanted to welcome you to the server.”

Phil slowly takes his hand off the sword. “Well, hello then.”

“Hi.” Dream tilts his head to the side, as if considering something. “So, uh… Flying is not allowed on this server. Just wanted to make sure you were aware.” He waits a moment as Phil reluctantly tucks his wings away. “If I catch you violating the rules, there will of course be consequences.” Dream pulls out his diamond axe very casually, setting it across his shoulders. Phil narrows his eyes but says nothing. “I don’t know who let you on the server,” Dream continues, “but since you’re here now, you’ll have to follow the rules. Understand me?

“Perfectly,” says Phil.

-0-

Phil has a grandson.

Wilbur had told him, of course, when Fundy was born, sent pictures and everything, but somehow the fact that Phil is a grandfather has not sunk in until this very moment, as the young man with fox ears strums a lament over Wilbur’s grave and Phil realizes that he and Tommy are the only family this kid has in the world.

Tommy’s been avoiding Phil. It hurts, but Phil knows why he’s doing it, because the very same things run through his mind every night: _You could have saved Wilbur. Why didn’t you come earlier? You murderer, you killed your own son. You’re a failure of a father_.

But during the day Phil smiles. He fills in the creeper holes. He helps with the rebuilding efforts. He goes fishing with his grandson. 

And then one day the shade of his dead son appears, smiling and forgetful, and thanks him— _thanks him_ for being the one to put an end to ‘Alivebur,’ as the ghost puts it. 

Phil goes to Technoblade’s base that day, showing up without warning. Techno is in the midst of moving house when Phil arrives, and welcomes the help with no questions, which is exactly what Phil needs.

“Too many people know where this base is,” Techno explains, coaxing his cow out of the lower levels of the base and tying it to a fence post while he readies a boat. “And they took, like, all my stuff. I’ve built a house way, way up north.” He sighs. “They didn’t seem to learn their lesson about government but I’m tired of takin’ all of them on single-handedly. I’m thinkin’ about retirin’.” He grins a little. “Maybe I’ll go back to farmin’ potatoes.”

“You’d best be careful with that, mate,” Phil warns with a grunt as he drags up Techno’s skeleton ‘pet’, unaffectionately called Fool. “Don’t want to go overboard again.”

Technoblade actually laughs at that and proceeds to lead the way north, where he shows off his little cottage near a tundra village, nestled at the foot of some mountains. It is very, very out of the way, nearly two full days’ journey from L’Manberg, and quite hidden.

“Not a bad spot,” Phil proclaims, after examining the area. “You’ll have to build farms and things, but you’ll do well.” He glances over to Techno. “Have you got everything from your base that you wanted?”

“I don’t need anything else.” Techno gives a little shrug. “You can take anything you want.”

“Anything?” Phil repeats, raising an eyebrow. There are some good materials in Techno’s old base. They would definitely be useful for some of the new projects for improving L’Manberg that he’s thought up these past few sleepless nights. 

“Yeah, sure, anything,” Technoblade says.

Phil grins. “Great.”

-0-

“Phil,” Technoblade says, the next time he sees him, “when I said you could take anything from my old base, I meant _in the chests_.” The younger man is definitely pouting a little. “Not the floors and the bookshelves!”

Phil starts laughing. “You said _anything_ ,” he points out. 

“I didn’t mean—” Techno breaks off with a sigh, rubbing his forehead with a put-upon expression. “Fine, whatever.” His voice shifts, becoming a little warmer, a little less exasperated. “You know what, for you the world, Phil.”

“I really needed those books, mate,” Phil replies, laughing more. 

-0-

Phil divides his time between L’Manberg and Techno’s arctic cottage, with projects he works on at both. In L’Manberg it’s bridging the huge crater in the center of the city and building a house to his specifications; at Techno’s it’s a beekeeping setup and a turtle farm.

Techno works on his own cottage, improving the interior and getting all his things sorted. One day he calls Phil inside and hands him a compass, shimmering with the tell-tale light of an enchantment of some sort. “ _Techno’s Compass_ ” is engraved in small, unobtrusive letters inside the lid. The needle points unerringly to the lodestone set in the corner of the room.

“You’re the only friend I have left, Phil,” says Techno, seriously. “I want you to have this compass. If you ever need me, Phil — I know I’m goin’ into retirement and all, but if you ever need me, I’ll come and find you.”

“And I’ll know where to find you,” Phil says. He’s touched by the gesture. He’s been good friends with Techno for quite some time, but he didn’t know Techno cared so much for him. It’s a good thing to know, as he’s been feeling more and more distant from his actual family on the server — Tommy still won’t talk to him about anything more substantial than yesterday’s weather, Fundy is being adopted by Eret, and Ghostbur is… well… _Ghostbur_.

Techno also gives him some emeralds, jokingly labeled ‘ _Friendship Emeralds’_ , as compensation for helping him move house. Phil accepts them with a smile and promises to visit soon. 

-0-

There are some new faces in L’Manberg these days — the scars of war have faded somewhat and the city is slowly opening up again. There’s a flower shop; the bakery has re-opened. New houses are springing up left and right, and L’Manberg is gradually returning to its pre-war status and power.

One of these new faces is a young half-Enderman, half… something _else_ named Ranboo. Phil knows this because Niki took the new guy around and introduced him to anyone who was in the town at the time, which Phil was. The kid seemed all right, maybe a little forgetful, but earnest and imaginative. He wants to start an ice-cream shop and run for president, and he is Phil’s next-door neighbor. 

Phil is on his way back from Technoblade’s cottage, taking a shortcut through the Nether (please — he’s not traveling for four days total every time he wants to see his friend, especially now that he can’t even fly), when he spots Ranboo. The young man is walking along one of the narrower bridges, looking preoccupied with something. Phil is about to call out a warning — the bridge shifts direction sharply — when Ranboo’s foot catches on the edge of the wooden bridge and he trips forward, arms flailing, plummeting toward the lava far below. 

Phil armors up as quick as he can, chugging a potion of fire resistance as he does. Then he rushes forward and dives off the same bridge Ranboo just fell off of (and if he uses his wings just a little bit to guide his fall toward the struggling figure in the lava, who’s to know?). Ranboo has enchanted netherite, which is good enough short-term protection, but it looks like he doesn’t have fire resistance or any food on him — or he’s too panicked to use them — which will not end well for him.

Phil scoops Ranboo up out of the lava and deposits him onto the nearest netherrack island. “Quick, take these,” he says, passing the gasping young man a golden apple and a potion of fire resistance. Ranboo consumes both, his mismatched eyes wide as saucers beneath his singed armor. 

“Oh my gosh, thank you so much,” he says, when he’s calmed down enough to talk. “I definitely thought I was dead there.”

Phil waves off his thanks. “I was about to warn you — I should have shouted earlier.” He looks Ranboo over. “Are you burnt at all?”

“No, no, I’m fine I think,” Ranboo says, patting down his long limbs gingerly. He looks up at Phil again. “Thank you, really, I mean—”

“It’s no trouble,” Phil says with a slight smile. “Just keep an eye out next time, mate. The Nether’s not a place to be messing around.”

“No, no, yeah, for sure,” Ranboo agrees fervently. Then he glances around, seeming to realize all of a sudden just how far down they are. “So, uh… how are we going to get back up to the path?”

-0-

  
Phil finds a small piece of paper that reads _Thank you for saving me - R_ wrapped around a single diamond in one of his chests the next day, and smiles to himself.


	2. Chapter 2

Phil is in the Arctic farming turtles with Technoblade when Tommy is exiled from L’Manberg. He’s been spending more and more time up at Techno’s cottage these days -- he doesn’t like how involved Dream has become in the day-to-day proceedings of L’Manberg, still very aware of the threat Dream had made to him while ‘welcoming’ him to the server and how much Dream had encouraged Wilbur’s spiral into insanity. 

Technoblade doesn’t hate Dream, but he doesn’t trust him either, and Dream will not come too close to Techno’s base on principle. Ever since the duel (on another server, long ago), Dream has made it a point to cross Technoblade as little as possible. Techno doesn’t seem to care outwardly one way or another. He’s wholeheartedly embraced retirement and for Phil it’s a breath of fresh air compared to the tense atmosphere of L’Manberg.

When he returns after the weekend away, it is to see half-deconstructed obsidian walls and wary, worried glances.

He goes to Niki because she is closest and asks her what happened while he was gone. 

“Tommy and Ranboo griefed George’s house,” she replies, her eyes fixed on the bread she is kneading, her face betraying her anger. “Nothing too serious, from what Ranboo told me, but Dream was furious, and he threatened to wall us in with obsidian unless we exiled Tommy.” She digs her fists into the dough, her delicate features pulled into a scowl. “And so Tubbo did as he was told.” 

Phil can only stare. Tommy is… gone? Kicked out of the city he’d helped retake and rebuild? By his own best friend? “Do you know where he is?” he asks finally.

Niki shakes her head. “I’m sorry, I don’t know. Wil-- Ghostbur went with him, and so did Dream. Dream’s keeping an eye on him,” she says, her voice full of suspicion. “I don’t trust him.”

“Thanks, Niki,” Phil says, leaving the bakery with a frown on his face. He should go find Tommy, see what he needs. Surely he hadn’t had much time to prepare, he wouldn’t have much gear. Phil is not afraid of Dream.

He wishes he could fly, because walking through all these miles of forest is really, really irritating. It gives him time to think and he doesn’t want to let himself think. When he lets himself think, all he can do is berate himself for being a terrible father.  _ You should have been there _ , he scolds.  _ You could have spoken up for him, you could have tried to protect him _ . In fact, he realizes if he was just there for Tommy a little more, maybe this whole thing could have been avoided. But Tommy had been avoiding him. Phil was respecting his space.  _ And hiding from your sins by being an escapist _ , his brain reminds him.

“Philza,” Dream’s voice says from behind him, and Phil whips around, pulling out his sword. “What are you doing out here?” There is a malicious sort of tone to Dream’s voice and Phil does not like it one bit.

“I’m looking for Tommy,” he says, keeping the sword pointed toward Dream. “I heard you know where he is.”

Dream laughs, a low chuckle, and even though Phil is not scared of Dream, the sound sends a chill down his spine. “You think he really wants to see  _ you _ ?” Dream asks, shoving his hands in his pockets. “There is such a thing as too little, too late, y’know?” He scoffs. “Why do you care  _ now _ ? Sure seemed like you didn’t before.”

The words pierce Phil to the core. He’s right. Dream is absolutely right. If Tommy had been avoiding him before, why on earth would he want to see Phil now? 

It hurts, but Phil lowers the sword and pulls out the bag of supplies he was going to give to Tommy. “You’re going to see him, right?” 

Dream nods. 

“Give this to him,” Phil orders. He eyes Dream suspiciously as the masked man accepts the bag. “If anything happens to him on your watch…” He sheathes his sword and glares. “You won’t survive the night.”

Dream salutes mockingly. “Yessir, Dadza, sir,” he sneers. “Cause you really know what’s best for Tommy.”

“What do you want with him?” Phil demands. “You’ve never liked Tommy. Why do  _ you _ care now?”

The smile on Dream’s mask has never looked more menacing. “He’s a loose cannon. I intend to help him find some… direction.” And then Dream disappears into the forest like he was never there.

-0-

Phil worries about Tommy, but Tommy never indicates that he wants him to visit, so he stays away. He stops going to Techno’s for a little while. It makes him feel guilty; it makes him remember how he’d failed his son. 

Ghostbur drifts through town every now and then, always so happy to talk to him. Phil asks after Tommy, but the ghost is unhelpful in telling him how he’s actually doing. At least Tommy seems to have made a camp for himself, and is surviving. Phil hopes the supplies he sent are helping. He’s not sure whether Dream actually gave them to Tommy, but he can hope.

To distract himself, he starts a couple new projects in L’Manberg, growing decorative coral and setting up a marketplace. 

And then one day there’s a new structure in the middle of L’Manberg, a wooden contraption reaching up to the sky, and the very sight of it fills Phil with foreboding. There’s an anvil resting on a honey block at the very top, and an iron cage directly beneath it. An anvil falling from that height would instantly kill anyone underneath it.

This is an execution device, and the anti-Technoblade propaganda that has been posted recently gives him a pretty good idea of who it’s for. He goes into his house and tries to organize his chests a little, getting things out so he can shift them around. He’s in the middle of going through all the items in his Ender chest when his doorbell starts ringing furiously. He glances out the window and sees Fundy, Tubbo, Quackity, and Ranboo standing on his doorstep. 

“Just a moment!” he shouts, throwing things haphazardly back into the Ender chest. He spares one look around the room to make sure there isn’t anything that the cabinet of L’Manberg shouldn’t see. 

There -- Techno’s compass is sitting on top of a barrel. Phil quickly chucks it in one of his more out-of-the-way chests on the way to open the door. “I’m coming!” he yells, as the ringing resumes. He throws open the door, startling the four young men outside. “Jesus Christ, you only have to do it  _ once _ ,” he grumbles, and Fundy laughs. Phil gets a better look at them and frowns. Three of the four are wearing bloodied aprons. Fundy even has blood on his face. Only Ranboo is wearing normal clothes, looking awkward in his usual suit and tie. “What’s with the get-ups?”

There is a moment of silence before Fundy says, brightly, “I got a job! Cooking!”

“Sweet potatoes,” Ranboo puts in.

“Right,” Phil says slowly. Because sweet potatoes are  _ bright red _ . “Well, come on in, you rang the bell enough.”

They all file in. None of them are wearing armor, so that eases Phil’s mind slightly, but something in him is still wary. The increased number of cabinet meetings, the ‘Butcher Army’ propaganda and Technoblade’s wanted posters, the new anvil guillotine out front -- it’s all creating a picture Phil doesn’t like. 

“We have a simple request,” says Quackity, once they’ve gathered in his front room. “We’re looking for Technoblade. We know you know how to find him.”

_ And there it is. _

“I don’t think you should ask why, I think you should just tell us where he is and then we’ll be on our way,” Quackity continues, a nervous smile flitting across his face.

Phil laughs a little in disbelief. “You don’t think I should ask why?” he repeats. How stupid do they think he is? Sure he’s older than they are, but he’s not  _ senile _ , for God’s sake. 

“Look, look, you’re a citizen of L’Manberg,” Quackity argues. “And this is by the express request of the  _ President _ .”

_ The President, or you?  _ Phil wants to ask but doesn’t. Tubbo seems like a figurehead half the time, relying heavily on Quackity and the rest of the cabinet to help him make his decisions, and often letting them have a great deal of autonomy. 

“Come on, Grandpa,” says Fundy, ears twitching. 

“Phil, I think it would be best for everyone if you just told us where Technoblade is,” Tubbo joins in. 

“You’ve got some blood on your face, by the way,” Phil says, avoiding the question and gesturing to Fundy. He slowly pulls out his netherite armor.

“Whoa, whoa, hey!” say Quackity and Tubbo, both armoring up in enchanted netherite of their own. A diamond axe appears in Quackity’s hands. “No need for that!”

Fundy is still trying to insist that his clothes aren’t all over blood. Phil takes his armor back off and Quackity and Tubbo follow suit. They’re just as wary of him as he is of them; they think he’ll put up a fight and they’ve geared up accordingly. What do they plan to do if he refuses? 

“Just tell us where he is,” Quackity demands, impatiently. “We’re trying to get  _ justice _ for our country. You’re a citizen of L’Manberg, you should care about this as much as we do.”

“Where exactly do you think this loyalty to the country is coming from?” Phil asks, genuinely curious. Sure, he helped rebuild, but he’s also been affiliated with Techno. He doesn’t consider himself an actual part of L’Manberg; he just happens to have a house there because that’s where his two sons were and it made things more convenient. Not to mention L’Manberg had exiled Tommy and is currently hunting down Techno. They’re not exactly making themselves the most sympathetic to him at the moment. “I’m pretty new here, and honestly, I haven’t seen much to inspire this kind of loyalty from me. Besides,” he adds, “Techno and me go  _ way _ back. We don’t rat out on each other. And he’s retired! He’s given up his violent ways, and he’s making an effort to stay peaceful. He hasn’t bothered you since he left, has he?”

“That doesn’t  _ matter _ , Phil! He still has to pay for his crimes!” Tubbo, speaking up for himself now. “He literally spawned Withers where your house currently stands! He  _ shot me _ ! Twice!”

“I’m not telling you where he is.” Phil is adamant. Although he knows Technoblade could easily take all four of the young men in a fight, he’d rather it not get to that point at all. If he can dissuade them, or at least delay them a couple days, it’ll give him time to get a plan together and warn Techno. Maybe Techno can move his base again.

Quackity sighs. “Well, we tried to do this civilly. Now we’re going to have to do this the hard way.”

“The hard way?” Phil asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Start going through his chests,” Tubbo orders.

“Whoa, hey, wait--!” Phil starts as Fundy and Quackity seize the chests nearest them and dump them out onto the floor, digging through the contents. Ranboo approaches the villager trader Phil has in his house and Phil hurries over to intercept him, calling, “Don’t touch him!” Behind them, Tubbo, Fundy, and Quackity continue to overturn Phil’s many chests. Ranboo is looking carefully through the higher-up barrels above the mantelpiece; he glances over his shoulder with a vaguely apologetic look on his face. 

Fundy apparently decides that going through Phil’s things isn’t enough, and darts outside, calling out, “I’m breaking your flowers!” There is the sound of smashing pottery. Phil runs out to his front porch, staring as his grandson throws the flowerpots that he’d helped craft to the ground.

“Fundy, what the--” Phil is cut off by the sound of breaking glass, and shards rain down on him from the second floor. Phil jumps back, getting underneath the protection of the doorframe, but not before a thin slice opens up along the side of his face. 

“Please tell me you were at least using Silk Touch,” Ranboo calls from inside. The abnormally tall young man has a worried look on his face when Phil runs back in to take in the damage. All his things are on the floor. His front windows have been knocked out, and it seems like a maniacally laughing Quackity is doing the same thing to his upstairs windows. 

“Big Q!” Tubbo shouts. “Big Q, look what I found!”

Phil freezes. The President is holding Techno’s compass, and by the gloating expression on his face, he has seen the inscription on the inside of the lid. Quackity comes over to examine it, then looks up, his smile irritatingly smug. 

“Philza Minecraft,” he says slowly, the grin slowly taking over his face. “What is  _ this?" _

“It’s nothing,” Phil says, desperately hoping his face isn’t giving everything away. 

“Sure doesn’t look like nothing to me, Philza,” Quackity says, still grinning. 

“It just points to a potato farm,” Phil says, the first thing he can come up with off the top of his head that sounds remotely plausible. “Just a bit of a joke, you know.”

His excuse is ignored as the cabinet gathers around Tubbo to look at the compass. 

“Philza Minecraft, this is treason,” Quackity says finally, looking back up at him. “You know that, right? You’ve been aiding and abetting an enemy of our nation.”

“There’s got to be some sort of punishment, Phil,” Tubbo says thoughtfully. “Exile, maybe?”

“Yeah, go join Tommy,” Quackity jeers.

“No, wait, you can’t kick him out of L’Manberg,” Fundy says, frowning. Phil’s shoulders relax a little. Finally, his grandson is seeing that this is wrong. He’ll speak up against what the government is doing. He’d just been caught up in Quackity’s malicious glee earlier, that’s all.

Then all of Phil’s hopes are dashed as Fundy continues, “I won’t have anywhere to live if you exile him.” 

_ That’s _ all he cares about? The house? Not the fact that he’d be sending his own grandfather -- who has been doing his best to provide some sort of guidance and family presence these past few months since Wilbur died -- into exile?

“House arrest, then,” Tubbo decides. “We can’t have him going to help Technoblade. Ranboo!”

The half-Enderman starts, seeming surprised at being addressed. He’s been quiet this whole time, Phil realizes, and guesses that this whole thing isn’t sitting well with Ranboo, at least. 

“Go get the manacles from the courthouse,” Tubbo orders, and Ranboo slinks off to do as he is told. 

Phil stands there in stony silence, arms folded over his chest. He contemplates fighting his way out. He knows his way around a blade, and if he ignores Dream’s rules and uses his wings, he’ll have an advantage. Three on one isn’t bad odds (though he’s no Technoblade). Then he can fly to Techno’s -- or just use his trident to get to a Nether portal, might be slightly less obtrusive -- and they can figure this out together. He’ll have to get the compass away from whoever had it, though, and he’ll have to time it so he’s gone before Ranboo gets back. He doesn’t want to take on four people in full netherite at once.

But that isn’t the only thing that stops him. This is Tommy’s Tubbo, his best friend, despite the distance between them now. Phil has watched the young president grow up. And Tommy would never, never forgive him if he did something to Tubbo. 

So Phil stands there, still as stone, and lets Quackity put the iron manacles around his ankles. He lets them shut him up in his own home. He doesn’t retaliate as they taunt him from outside. He doesn’t say anything, his anger slowly simmering, until Fundy calls out “I still love you, Grandpa!” from outside.

“You are  _ dead _ to me!” Phil shouts back, furious. How  _ dare _ he? He sells him out, locks him up, and then has the nerve to say ‘I love you’? No. 

He fires off a message to Technoblade:  _ They’re coming for you -- Quackity Tubbo Fundy Ranboo. Pretty geared up. Be ready mate. _

Then he pulls out his sword and begins to sharpen it, slowly drawing the whetstone along the edge over and over and over.

-0-

They come back with Technoblade and his horse Carl, and all Phil can do is watch from his balcony. He’d tried to leave the house to go help Techno or at least try and delay the Butcher Army, but the enchantments on the manacles he was wearing wouldn’t let him farther than his front steps. 

“Phil!” Techno shouts, on seeing him. “Phil, what’d they do to you?” The pig-man’s eyes are blazing. He wrests himself out of Fundy’s grasp and starts toward Phil’s house, filled with righteous fury.

“I’m fine!” Phil calls back, hurriedly. “I’m under house arrest, I just can’t leave. Got these manacles.” He shakes his ankle to demonstrate. He doesn’t want Techno doing anything rash, and to be honest, he can’t think of anything he can do to help.

Fundy and Quackity tackle Technoblade, forcing him to the ground. 

“Leave Phil alone, he didn’t do anything!” Techno yells from underneath them, still struggling. 

“Get him into the cage!” Tubbo calls from up on the platform. Fundy and Quackity drag Techno up to the platform and force him inside the iron enclosure. 

Techno still looks angry, but not recklessly so anymore. “I get the feelin’ the outcome of this trial’s already been decided,” he says dryly, glancing upward. 

“You are here for the crimes you’ve committed against L’Manberg,” Tubbo announces. “You spawned Withers and blew up the city.”

“That -- that part was Wilbur, actually,” Techno points out, but he is ignored. 

“You are a traitor and a danger to our nation, and so--” Tubbo breaks off as he is hit in the face by a snowball, and Punz suddenly drops into their midst. Phil frowns, then scans the sky, trying to figure out where he came from. 

The sound of panicked screaming draws Phil’s attention back to the ground, and his eyes widen as he watches Punz placing TNT all over the ground. The Butcher Army is scrambling to keep it from going off. Techno sits back in the cage, looking bored. 

Phil is content to sit and watch the chaos (there’s not much else he  _ can  _ do anyway) when Ghostbur’s voice reaches his ears. 

“Technoblade!” the ghost calls in his hoarse voice. He is hovering near the ground, a huge smile on his face. He holds a lead in one hand, which is wrapped around the neck of a blue sheep. “I’ve named him Friend!” the ghost announces proudly, holding up the lead. Phil watches anxiously. While Ghostbur can’t be hurt by much, he wouldn’t put it past the Butcher Army to do something to him nonetheless.

“That’s great, Ghostbur,” Techno is saying, sounding a bit impatient. “But I’m literally about to be executed here, man.”

Ghostbur just beams and wanders away, and a pang goes through Phil’s chest. Wil would have cared, once. 

“Pull the lever, Big Q!” Tubbo shouts from where he is clashing with Punz.

“No!” Phil shouts, pulling out his bow and nocking an arrow in one fluid movement. The anvil falls as if in slow motion. There is something gold glinting in Technoblade’s hand, but Phil can’t spare more than a quick glance, instead fruitlessly firing off his arrow at the anvil in a desperate attempt to knock it off course -- an attempt to do anything but stand there uselessly and watch his friend be executed. 

The arrow misses --  _ of course it does _ \-- and the anvil lands squarely on top of Techno. But instead of the squish and dull thud that Phil is expecting, there is an explosion of green and gold sparks, and Techno leaps up and out of the cage, perfectly unharmed. 

Phil lets out a whoop and watches as Techno sprints after his horse, unable to keep the smile from his face. A Totem of Undying. Of  _ course _ Techno would have one of those with him. “Technoblade never dies!” Phil shouts to the sky, laughing. Below, the Butcher Army is in stunned shock, milling around, directionless. What do you do when someone has cheated death before your very eyes?

Quackity goes after Techno, but the rest are distracted by Ghostbur, and Phil wonders, for a moment, if some of the Wilbur that cares about Techno is still in there somewhere, trying to buy the warrior some time. 

Phil, for his part, is just relieved that Techno has got away. Sure, he’s still under house arrest, and he gets the feeling that the Butcher Army may take their anger over the failed execution out on him, but he at least can rest a little better tonight knowing at least one of the people he cares about is safe.

-0-

“Phil,” Ghostbur says, for the tenth time in an hour. “Phil, let’s go visit Technoblade.”

“I can’t,” Phil replies, for the tenth time in an hour. “I’m under house arrest.”

Ghostbur scoffs. “Now that’s just silly. What’s keeping you? You could just leave. Walk outside!”

“Wil, I can’t,” Phil says, gesturing to the enchanted manacles around his ankles. 

“ _ Friend _ wants you to,” Ghostbur says slyly, tugging on the sheep’s lead so it’s looking the right way. 

Phil buries his face in his hands. “Wilbur,” he begins, dragging his hands down and meeting the ghost's curious gaze. “I would like nothing more than to go see Techno. But I  _ literally _ can’t. I’ve tried. Please stop asking.”

“Isn’t L’Manberg supposed to be all about freedom from tyranny and doing what you want?” Ghostbur asks, drifting over to the platform where Techno was supposed to be executed. 

Phil leans against the railing of his balcony, a slight frown on his face. Where is Wilbur going with this?

“This whole house arrest thing sort of goes against that, doesn’t it?” Ghostbur leans back in one of the chairs, propping his feet up on air. “ _ I heard there was a special place, where men could go and emancipate… The tyranny and brutality of their rulers _ …” he sings, voice thin but clear. 

“How do you know that song?” Phil asks, frown deepening. Memories flash in his mind of the small room with the lyrics scribbled on the walls in nearly illegible handwriting.  _ Have you heard the song on the walls before? _

“I’m the one who wrote it!” Ghostbur says, indignant. “It’s a very proud memory. Come on, Phil, you know this bit… _It’s a very big and not-blown-up_ _L’Manberg! My L’Manberg, my L’Manberg…_ ” Phil joins in softly at the chorus. 

**_My_ ** _ L’Manberg, Phil! _ crows Wilbur’s maddened, broken voice in his memory. _ My unfinished symphony, forever unfinished! _

“ _ My L’Ma-a-a-anberg _ ,” Ghostbur finishes with a soft smile. Then he sits up straight, realizing they have an audience. “Oh, hello, Ranboo!”

“Hello!” the young man replies brightly. 

“Ranboo, you’re part of the government, aren’t you?” Ghostbur asks. “You can let Phil out of his house for a little bit to go see Technoblade, can’t you?”

Phil schools his face into blankness as Ranboo glances up at him and rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably. “I, uh… I have, like, no power. Or say. At all. In anything,” he explains awkwardly. “I just take the notes. You’d have to talk to Tubbo about that.”

“Just for a little bit,” Ghostbur wheedles. “I’d go with him!”

“Wil,” Phil interrupts. “I already told you, I can’t leave.”

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure you won’t be under house arrest for too long, Phil,” Ranboo offers. “This whole thing should blow over pretty soon now that Technoblade’s gone… They want to go after Dream, now. So you should be able to leave,  _ legally _ , in a reasonable amount of time.”

Phil appreciates the confidence, but something tells him it’s not going to be as easy as Ranboo thinks. “I hope so,” he says anyway. 

“I, uh… I didn’t think we were just going to execute him with no trial,” Ranboo admits, looking down at the ground. “And I’m… I’m sorry about your house. I didn’t know it was going to be like that.”

“Yeah, that was… unnecessary,” Phil says with a frown. He can’t say it’s okay, because it really isn’t, but he can’t bring himself to take his anger out on Ranboo, who is so clearly apologetic. 

“Yes, yes, this is all very interesting, but when can we go see Technoblade?” Ghostbur interrupts impatiently.

“What part of  _ I can’t leave my house _ are you not getting?” Phil says, exasperated.

“I -- I could go with you, Ghostbur,” Ranboo offers. “I picked up some of Technoblade’s stuff. I could, uh, give it to him as a peace offering. So he doesn’t kill me again,” he mutters, just loud enough for Phil to hear. He bites back a snicker. 

“That’s a fantastic idea!” Ghostbur says happily. “And Friend can come along as well!”

“Be careful,” Phil says, as they set off. He’s not sure whether trusting Ranboo is a good idea or not, but he did seem genuinely repentant, and Phil would like to think that he and Ranboo bonded a little over the lava incident. Techno can absolutely hold his own against  _ Ranboo _ , however, so at least he doesn’t have to worry about that. 

Phil sighs and shuts the doors to his balcony, resigning himself to being in his house for at least the next several days. 

Maybe he can start building a basement or something to keep himself occupied. And he's got an enchanting table still... maybe he can figure out the counter-enchantments for these manacles. Just a little project to keep him sharp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fanon Phil: *AnGsT*   
> Canon Phil: "My first day on the server! I killed my son. It was pog champ! And then I cried." *sips water*
> 
> Anyway that was the Butcher Army confrontation. I don't know why but the scene where they go to put Phil under house arrest is legit my favorite bit of roleplay I have seen on the entire server (well okay that and also Wil's decline into insanity but you know). I have no idea why this is. I just really really like the whole Butcher Army arc. It was very well done.
> 
> Oh, I made it so Phil actually can't leave his house because of the enchantments on the 'ankle monitor' because it just simplifies things and also multiplies the opportunities for aNgSt about being useless
> 
> Also we love Ranboo here so he keeps sneaking in and stealing the show... I'm tempted to keep this going just so we can get to the Arctic Anarchy bois adopting our favorite half-Enderman. Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter brought to you by the song "Preach," by Saint Motel. The song has nothing to do with the contents of this chapter. It's just heckin catchy. There's a really cool animatic of one of the 4-v-1 Minecraft Manhunts to it by NaC4tt. 
> 
> Here's the link, go give it some love: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NCG0fX3QiZM
> 
> Anyway, enjoy the chapter!

Techno’s base is safe (the Butcher Army lost the compass) and Tommy is safe with Techno, Phil learns when Ghostbur and Ranboo return to L’Manberg. Phil nearly cries in relief. He’d  _ known _ Dream was lying with that announcement of Tommy’s death just the other day. He’d been living in denial since then, telling himself he would have known if Tommy had died. That he would have felt it _. _

But Tommy is not dead, Tommy is alive and staying with Technoblade, and so Phil can worry a little less. He’s still under house arrest, despite Ranboo’s reassurances, and Tubbo stops by every day for hours to talk his ear off and also probably make sure he’s not making any escape attempts. He’s been unable to make much progress on the counter-enchantments for the manacles thanks to Tubbo’s constant presence, but his basement is coming along nicely, with a curving spiral staircase and a water elevator to get up and down quickly if the stairs are taking too long. 

He is bored out of his mind.

He finds a note from Technoblade slipped under his door reading  _ I’ll get you out soon, don’t worry. Just a little longer _ one morning, and working on the basement that day is suddenly far less monotonous. Even Tubbo’s transparent attempts to get him to wear armor with a Curse of Binding on it are only mildly annoying, not as frustrating as they would have been otherwise. 

He makes a break for it the next day after weakening the enchantments with his own counter ones and meets Techno halfway between L’Manberg and the little tundra town where Techno’s base is. Techno claps him on the back, breaks the manacles with a well-enchanted pickaxe (it’s called Toothpick, Techno informs him later) and simply says “I was on my way, man. You coulda waited, like, an hour.”

Phil bursts out laughing and follows Techno to the beach, where there are two boats waiting. They sail as fast as they can back to the cape near Techno’s house, then trident-pearl back to the cottage itself. 

“Phil, I’m ‘omeless,” is the first thing Ghostbur says when Phil steps into the house. 

Phil blinks. 

“They kicked me out of my ‘ome in the sewer. I’m ‘omeless,” the ghost repeats, floating morosely in the middle of the room. 

“I—you— _ what?” _ Phil says, completely caught off-guard. “You got kicked out of your sewer?”

Ghostbur nods, a dramatic pout on his face. “And someone blew up Logstedshire, so now I’m  _ ‘omeless, _ Phil.”

“Why are you suddenly not pronouncing your h’s?”

“He’s been like this for the last day and a half,” Techno says over his shoulder, putting some things away in a chest. “Surprised he still remembers.”

Phil just shakes his head and sighs. “Where’s Tommy?” 

“Workin’ on that cobblestone monstrosity, probably,” mutters Techno.

“He’s building a house for the both of us!” Ghostbur says, brightening up. 

Techno buries his face in his hands. Phil bites his lip to keep from bursting into laughter. “Hide me from Dream, he says. I don’t want to be found, he says. Let me have all your invis pots, he says.” He looks up at Phil with a pained expression. “And then he goes and starts buildin’ things that are  _ very obviously _ built by  _ not me _ right by  _ my house! _ He’s bringin’ down my property value, Phil!”

Phil can’t hold in his laugh anymore and doubles over, clutching his stomach.

“It’s not funny, Phil,” says Techno, but his mouth is twitching up into a smile even as he says it. 

“Are you quite all right, Phil?” Ghostbur asks, a concerned look on his face. Phil waves a hand as he wheezes, still trying to get a handle on his laughter. 

“Wanna go see Tommy?” Techno asks. “I gotta see the damage.”

Phil nods, still giggling. He follows Techno outside to the half-built wooden frame of a house right next to the cottage. Tommy is muttering to himself as he builds, his back to them. He’s wearing what looks like Techno’s clothes. 

“Tommy, maybe you should finish one project before startin’ another one,” Techno says dryly.

“Piss off, Technoblade,” Tommy says, not bothering to turn around. Phil smiles a little. Seems exile hasn’t done much to dampen his spirit. 

“I mean, you already built one monstrosity,” Techno goes on, ignoring Tommy’s bad humor. “I don’t wanna have to look at another one.”

“I don’t know, mate, I think it looks all right so far,” Phil puts in, and Tommy whips around. 

“You were arrested, I thought—!” he starts, wide-eyed.

“I broke out,” Phil says, modestly. 

“Right, yeah, of course. And then Techno came for you.” A slightly awkward silence falls as father and son stare at each other, realizing the last time they’d seen each other face-to-face had been months ago.

“I’ll just—uh. Make some potatoes. For dinner,” Techno says uncomfortably, and disappears back into the cottage.

“I’m so sorry, Tommy,” Phil says finally. 

Tommy sets aside his building materials and crosses his arms over his chest, face blank. “For what?”

“I should have been there when you were exiled,” Phil says. He can’t meet Tommy’s eyes. “I should have — I shouldn’t have trusted Dream, I should have gone to find you when you were out there by yourself. Hell, I should have just come to the server so much sooner. Then maybe none of this would have happened.” He doesn’t miss Tommy’s flinch when Dream’s name is said, and revises his earlier opinion. Maybe Tommy isn’t as unchanged as he seems.

“Yeah, you should’ve,” Tommy says, and Phil winces. “You really should’ve. Do you know, I sent you an invitation to come visit me? And you never did. No one did. Nobody cared about me, Phil! No one except… Dream,” Tommy says, a little quieter.

Phil is still caught on the first part of the sentence. “You… invited me? I never got any sort of invitation. I talked to Dream, and he said — he said you wouldn’t want to see me. Did you at least get the supplies I sent you?”

By Tommy’s angry expression, Phil guesses the answer is ‘no’. He curses. “Of course.”

“What d’you mean, you never got anything from me? Dream  _ said _ —” Tommy stops himself, kicking at the snow. “No, no, he never cared either, he was just there to watch you, he wasn’t your friend,” he mutters to himself, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “Can’t trust anyone.”

“Tommy?” Phil says, softly. His boy is hurting, and Phil doesn’t know if Tommy will allow him to comfort him now. He holds his arms out and Tommy rushes into them. Phil folds his son into a tight hug, bringing his wings around to cocoon him as well. “Tommy, I want you to know, I would have been there in an instant if I’d thought you wanted me there. I’m sorry,” he says into Tommy’s shoulder — when did he get so  _ tall? _

“You should have come anyway!” Tommy bursts out, breaking away from the embrace to glare at Phil. “I was in  _ exile! _ You had to have known—I mean,  _ any _ company besides Dream and Ghostbur would’ve been welcome! Or even before, in L’Manberg! We never said more than a word to each other!” He takes a couple more steps back.

“I was trying to give you your space,” Phil starts, lamely, and Tommy laughs over him.

“Oh, you gave me plenty of space. And you know what? I… Look, I can forgive you for not coming. For not being there. ‘Cause you would’ve done, and I know you care,” Tommy says, and Phil’s hopes lift. “But I don’t need you anymore.”

And doesn’t that just shoot Phil through the heart. 

“I can do this on my own,” Tommy continues. He won’t meet Phil’s eyes. “I  _ have _ been doing this on my own. So…” He trails off, shrugging.

“I understand,” Phil says quietly, his wings drooping behind him. He knows it’s a tell, but he can’t bring himself to care. He really is a failure of a father.

Tommy gives him a slightly wavering smile. “Glad you made it out of house arrest,” he says, like a peace offering. “It’ll be good to have you with us, Phil.”

“Glad to be here again,” Phil says, pretending that Tommy calling him ‘Phil’ and not ‘Dad’ or ‘Dadza’ doesn’t pierce him through the heart all over again. He clears his throat and slaps a smile on his face. “I think Techno’s made dinner for us,” he says, gesturing toward the house. “Why don’t we go see if it’s any good?”

“He only ever makes things with potatoes,” Tommy grumbles, but stuffs his tools and the extra building materials in a chest and follows Phil inside. 

The dinner conversation is slightly strained, but Ghostbur’s chatter fills the empty spaces well. Tommy isn’t quite his loud, boisterous self, but Phil’s not sure how much of that is because of exile and how much of that is the conversation they just had. Techno has been shooting glances between Tommy and Phil, but Phil knows Techno won’t say anything unless Phil brings it up. Ghostbur is oblivious… perhaps intentionally so. 

That evening, Techno goes up to the attic, Tommy goes down to his ‘raccoon hole’ (as Techno has dubbed it), and Phil sets up in the spare room he usually has when he’s at Techno’s and spends a long time staring at the ceiling, thinking over the day.

Ghostbur floats in at two in the morning (he’s still tossing and turning) and silently hands him some blue.

-0-

He mostly just lets Techno and Tommy do their own thing, without him tagging along, happy to stay at the cottage and devise more efficient farming and resource-gathering methods. It’s been an exhausting week or so, both physically and emotionally, and Phil could use the rest. So when Techno and Tommy go off to cause some more chaos—sorry,  _ commit minor terrorism _ — in L’Manberg, he thinks nothing of it. They’ve been doing something there nearly every day this week; something about a Hound Army and a festival.

He thinks  _ something _ of it, however, when Techno returns alone, glowering fiercely, armor a little battered and axe missing. 

“Techno? What happened? Where’s — where’s Tommy?” He knows Tommy is on his last life. If something happened to him, to both his sons…

“He’s stayin’ with  _ Tubbo _ ,” Techno spits, stalking into the house. Phil trails after him, worries somewhat assuaged but not completely. “Didn’t kill too many people this time, don’t worry. That’s comin’ later,” he adds, darkly. “Dream’s comin’ over, by the way. I gotta talk to him, and then I’ll fill you in, all right?” 

“Dream?” Phil echoes, scowling. 

“He promised to help destroy L’Manberg,” Techno says, and turns away, drawing his sword and checking the enchantments on it. “Nothin’s goin’ to be left when we’re done, Phil. Nothin’.”

Dream shows up shortly after that, and Techno takes him up to the Vault. Phil follows along. He doesn’t trust Dream, not at all, but the opportunity he’s offered —to destroy L’Manberg, once and for all, is so, so, tempting. He stands to the side as Dream laughs in disbelief over the number of wither skulls on the walls, not saying a word about the true amount he and Techno both know there are. He waits as Dream promises Techno fire and destruction, and Techno grins, that bloodthirsty look on his face that Phil knows well. But there’s something behind the grin, something heavy, and that is what Phil will be asking about. 

Just as soon as this green bastard leaves. 

-0-

“So.” Phil looks carefully at Techno, who is avoiding his eyes from across the table. “What happened in L’Manberg today?” 

“He sold me out, Phil,” Techno says in a low voice. “Stabbed me in the back.” He slams his fist down on the table suddenly. “He was just like, ‘No, Tubbo and L’Manberg haven’t betrayed me enough, I’ll go running right back to them because of the stupid discs, because oh it’s Tubbo, my Tubbo, the one who exiled me in the first place, but noooooo, Technoblade, he’s my one real friend!  _ He’s  _ the one who gave me all this netherite gear and a place to live and, like,  _ three stacks of gapples _ —!’ ” He breaks off and shoves his chair back, standing abruptly. “ _ Tubbo’s _ the one who hid you from Dream, right, Tommy, I forgot about that.” 

“Techno,” Phil starts, although he doesn’t know how he’s going to finish the sentence.  _ I know what you’re going through? He abandoned me too? I wish that L’Manberg hadn’t taken both my sons from me? _

“I even told him he didn't have to help me destroy L'Manberg if he didn't want to! See, Phil, this," Techno says, pacing up and down the small room, “this is why you’re my only friend in the world! Because you don’t pull this, Phil. You don’t backstab me when I’m surrounded by like thirty guys who all want to kill me!” 

Phil just shakes his head silently, letting Techno rant. 

“I should never have gone in after him in the first place,” Techno says bitterly, his shoulders falling in a slump. “I went in there to defend him. It was goin’ to be the two of us, no matter what, and then he just—” He breaks off. “I should check on the dogs,” he mutters, going to a chest and digging around for an invisibility potion. “Tommy knows where they are, he might snitch.”

“I’ll help you,” Phil says, impulsively. 

Techno turns to quirk an eyebrow at him. “Well, thanks, but you don’t have to—”

“With everything,” Phil clarifies. “You and me and Dream. Let’s blow the whole damn country up. We can’t let it keep corrupting good people, dragging everyone down.”

Techno gives him a long look before extending his arm. Phil clasps it. “Burn it down,” he says.

“Till there’s nothin’ but bedrock,” Techno agrees, and there is a red flicker in his eyes. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one turned out a little angstier than expected. Didn't intend to go there but we did. I was thinking about how canonically I'm pretty sure Phil isn't actually Tommy's father, but I'd sort of written it like he was, so how could I get Phil to the blowing-up-L'Manberg point when one of his sons was on the other side? And this happened. (don't be mad at me i adore c!phil and he's doing his best we will not hate on him here he just hates on himself)
> 
> On a completely different note, I have SO much fun writing Ghostbur. He just manifests on my page and says ridiculous things as long as I let him. Also, how do you link things in the author's notes? I've seen people do it all over the place and I'd like to give it a shot instead of just putting a url in there... 
> 
> Next chapter: Doomsday.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "𝘏𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐'𝘮 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵/ 𝘐 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘷𝘪𝘷𝘦𝘥, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘐 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘪𝘵"
> 
> ("The World Was Wide Enough", Hamilton)

Phil cackles as he runs along the rooftops, soul sand in one hand and a Totem of Undying in the other. 

(“Phil, I want you to have this,” Techno had said before they’d set off with Dream. “Just in case. You only got one life and I — I can’t lose you, Phil, okay?”

“Don’t worry, mate,” Phil had replied, taking the totem with a smile. “I’ll stay out of the way. Like we planned, yeah?”)

Phil thinks he’s done a pretty good job of sticking to the plan, all in all. He’s been the backup, spawning Withers at Techno’s cue and climbing up to help Dream replenish the TNT once the mechanism had started up. Now he’s switching between sniping with his bow, threatening people with Withers, and throwing splash potions of invisibility to cause more confusion. Hardly anyone is targeting him — part of that is probably the invis he’s been splashed with, but more of it is the very immediate threat of both Technoblade and at least ten Withers, all causing much more damage than little old him. 

He climbs back up to the TNT machine to check the reserves; they’re running a little low. He sticks the last of the TNT in his inventory in the nearest dispenser, then runs along the narrow obsidian framework to get the best position for more sniping. 

Phil’s usually more of a distance fighter, preferring to swoop in for the quick kill on silent, terrifying wings. There’s a reason he was called the Angel of Death, once upon a time — Techno had been the one to give him the nickname, actually, back in their Antarctic Empire days. 

It’s been a while since he last reminded everyone how much he has earned that title. 

He fires some flaming arrows down into the city, more to add to the chaos than really hit anyone, but he manages to set the sleeve of Jack Manifold’s shirt on fire anyway. He laughs at Jack’s shout of frustration. This isn’t even really Jack’s fight; Phil’s not sure why he’s here. Doesn’t he run his own country or something? 

“Philza Minecraft!” Jack yells up at him, having put his burning sleeve out. “I thought you lived in L’Manberg! Since when are you an anarchist?”

“Not a fan of government any longer,” Phil calls back, still grinning a little. He sees Techno run by down on the ground shooting off fireworks, two Withers trailing after him.

“ _ Since WHEN?” _ Jack shrieks, diving out of the way of a stray explosion. 

Phil is suddenly filled with unreasoning rage. Who is Jack, to assume he should be fighting for L’Manberg? Who is anyone, to seem surprised to see him at Technoblade’s back? Can they really not think of  _ any _ reason he would have to want to reduce L’Manberg to a chunk error? “Since I was forced to kill my own  _ son, _ you idiot!” he shouts back, and the battlefield seems to fall silent for just a moment. “What do you  _ think?” _

“You guys brought this upon yourselves,” Techno adds, from where he stands at the edge of a crater near Phil. 

The scene soon dissolves back into disorder, but Phil can’t really feel sorry about the destruction. The government of L’Manberg took one son away from him and estranged him from the other, and that is something that Phil cannot forgive. Not this time.

So he watches as the craters grow deeper and deeper. He watches as the wood of the houses burns to ash. And it soothes something deep, deep in his soul, something that tells him  _ It had to go _ . 

-0-

“Phil?”

The voice is thin, tentative, hesitant. Phil turns from the smoking wreckage to see Ghostbur hovering behind him, wringing his hands, a lost look on his face.

“Heya, mate,” Phil says with a small, tired smile, slinging his bow over his back and tucking away the potion he’d been holding. 

Ghostbur is staring at the ruins of what was once Phil’s house. The rain makes quiet hisses as it hits him, and his edges seem to be getting more and more smudged. “Phil, why did you blow up L’Manberg?” he asks in a tiny voice. 

Phil sighs. He knows this conversation would have happened sooner or later, but he’d sort of been banking on  _ later _ . “We needed to send a message. ‘Bout what happens when you establish a government.” He keeps it short and to the point. No need to explain his personal motivations to the son he’s already caused enough pain to. 

Something tells him Ghostbur’s probably going to forget this particular conversation anyway. 

Ghostbur is still staring at Phil’s house. “You knew Friend was in there.”

Ah. That’s what this is about. Phil does feel sort of bad about that, but Friend has a way of showing up in the most unlikely of places, so he’s not too worried about the little blue sheep. 

“Wil, he’ll turn up, don’t worry,” Phil starts, placating, but Ghostbur whirls around, an uncharacteristic look of fury on his face.

“No, you  _ knew _ Friend was in there, stop— stop patronizing me!” he yells, and there are streaks of blue running down his cheeks. “You knew Friend was in your house, you knew everything  _ everyone _ owned was in this town!”

“I did,” Phil admits. He is not sorry. It’ll be better for everyone to start over, on equal footing. Rebuild a community, rather than a hierarchy.

“I don’t want to listen to what you have to say for yourself,” Ghostbur sobs, and something in his voice at that moment is so much more  _ Wilbur _ than this shadow of him has ever been that Phil freezes. “You were the St. George of the SMP, Phil. You slayed the dragon, you killed Alivebur. You were the hero. But… look at what you’ve done,” he says softly, extending his arm out over the ruins. “How can you look at this and still see yourself as a hero?”

Phil doesn’t say anything. He has never seen himself as a hero, not since he came to this server. He can only do what needs to be done. What will turn out best for everyone in the long run. He may not believe in the cause as fervently as Techno, but he understands it, and that is why he does what he does.

“I built this town,” Ghostbur is saying, two shimmering, midnight-blue tears sliding down his cheeks. “I built Logstedshire. And both times, both times they got destroyed. I didn’t — I never hurt anyone, and yet I’m the one who pays for it, Phil. I know I’m forgetful and I’m the comic relief in all of this, but I still feel things,” he gasps out. “And I try my best to make sure no one else feels it.” He stretches out hands that are stained with the same blue that drips from his eyes. “Why?” he begs.

Phil just shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says, somberly. “I hope you’ll understand someday.” He takes another look at the shell that was once his son, fallen to his knees, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. “You should get inside, Wil. You’ll melt in the rain.”

And he leaves the ghost behind, pulling out his trident to head back home. 

He doesn’t look back once. 

-0-

Techno’s cabin, far removed from the devastation, is the perfect place to regroup and discuss the victory, which is what Phil and Techno do, satisfied with their hard work. 

When Phil goes out the next morning to check on the various farms and try and sort out some of the extra gear they’d picked up during the fight, he can faintly taste ash and smoke in the air, carried with the wind. It sours the day a little, but he resolves to not let it get to him. 

“What was with that  _ Do Not Read _ book of Ranboo’s?” Techno asks randomly at lunch that afternoon, his brow furrowed. “I mean, we gave it back to him and everythin’, but I was really tempted to read it, not gonna lie.”

“It’s important to him, I think,” Phil replies, setting down his slice of bread. “He’s got memory problems, so it helps him… keep track of things? I don’t really know,” he admits. 

Techno nods a little and dips a chunk of bread into his bowl of stew, a thoughtful look on his face. “Does he need a place to stay? We sorta blew up his house and all. I feel kinda bad for the guy. He did his best to keep out of everythin’, and he got outed as a traitor the other day for givin’ me my stuff back after the execution… incident.” He takes a bite of the bread. “He can stay in the doghouse or somethin’ if he wants. Not in  _ my _ house, though. Had too many bad experiences with people stayin’ in my house.”

Phil laughs a little, ignoring the reminder of Tommy. “I can ask, if you’d like,” he offers. “Ranboo and I, we get along all right, and he owes me a sort of favor for saving his life, so he’d probably hear me out.”

“Yeah, you should do that,” Techno says, nodding decisively and standing with his empty bowl. 

“I’ll give him a call,” Phil says with a smile. Who said the Blood God didn’t have a heart sometimes?

-0-

Phil stands patiently with his communicator held to his ear, waiting for Ranboo to pick up. 

“Ph-Phil?” Ranboo finally answers. His voice is rough, raspy. 

“Heya, mate,” Phil says, smiling. “Did you make it out okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m… still alive.”

Phil doesn’t like the hesitation in that sentence. “Where are you right now?”

“Um — I’m — I’m gonna be in L’Manberg in a sec,” is the cautious reply.

“Okay. Do you need a place to stay, or are you good?”

There is a long pause from the other end. Phil bites his lip. He hasn’t overstepped, has he? He likes Ranboo. It’s probably best for him to get some distance from everyone who thinks he’s a traitor, anyway. 

“I — I think I do need a place to stay,” Ranboo finally admits, and Phil allows himself one silent fist pump of victory, but he keeps his voice calm. 

“Yeah? Hey, what’s been going on with you?” he asks, light concern in his voice. “We haven’t spoke in a bit, and I know that book you’d lost was very precious to you. Didn’t know what that all was about, but I’m glad you got it back.”

“It… keeps who my friends are in it,” Ranboo says quietly. “So I don’t forget.” He gives a little helpless laugh. “It’s changed quite a bit from today, so I — I might need to update it.”

There’s something so sad about that sentence. Phil can’t help it — his heart goes out to the kid. “I’ll come to L’Manberg and meet you,” he says, decisively. “I’ll be there in a little bit.” He hurries to the Nether portal, hanging up. He goes through the Nether and then tridents to the edge of the crater that was L’Manberg. He squints, looking around, There’s no sign of Ranboo, so he calls him again.

“Heya, mate,” he says, keeping his voice light. “I’m in L’Manberg now, just off the Prime Path. Where are you at?”

“I’m coming, almost there,” is Ranboo’s hurried reply, and he appears over the edge of the ruined wooden structure. Phil waves, and Ranboo joins him soon enough. 

“Hi,” Phil says. “You have everything you need?”

Ranboo laughs, a little nervously. “Yeah, actually,” he says, running a hand through already-tousled hair. “I put all the, uh, important stuff in my Ender chest, and I didn’t lose any of my inventory during the fight, so I came out pretty good, all — all things considered.”

Phil hums, leading the way back to the Nether portal. Ranboo keeps up a stream of slightly nervous chatter as they go. Phil maintains the conversation, happy that Ranboo doesn’t seem to hate his guts, despite the destruction he’s caused. 

“You know your way, right?” Phil asks, once they get to the Nether. Ranboo nods, and Phil laughs a little. “Course you do, what am I saying.”

“I always get nervous on these wood bridges,” Ranboo comments as they pick their way towards Phil and Techno’s home portal, glancing down at the lava for a brief moment. 

“Yeah, this whole area is kinda scuffed,” Phil says, rolling his eyes. “Watch your step, now.”

They make it to the portal with no major incident, and soon Phil is showing Ranboo around Techno’s property. It’s been a while since the half-Enderman last visited, and things have changed somewhat. Phil has taken down Tommy’s horrifically obvious cobblestone tower. The half-built house next to Techno’s cottage is full of dogs. There’s a stasis chamber on the front lawn. 

Phil is very proud of the stasis chamber and Ranboo seems suitably impressed by it, which makes Phil grin. “Would you like to see the dogs?” he offers. 

Ranboo’s face lights up. “Sure,” he says, and so Phil pushes the door open and they are immediately swarmed by about thirty dogs. Ranboo is bowled over, and he lays sprawled on the floor, laughing as the dogs lick his face and bound around him. Phil manages to keep his footing, and leans down to pet the nearest wolfhound. 

“They’re so much nicer when they’re not, y’know, trying to kill everyone,” Ranboo jokes. 

“We put strength and speed potions on them for the battle,” Phil says. He can’t help bragging a little — it was such a  _ genius _ move by Techno. 

“Oh geez,” says Ranboo, struggling to sit up. There are three dogs in his lap. “With that plus the Withers and the TNT, I can’t believe more of L’Manberg didn’t get destroyed.”

Phil rubs the back of his neck, chuckling. “Techno still has about a stack of wither skulls in a chest somewhere. He forgot to bring them to the fight.”

Ranboo’s eyes have gone comically wide. “A stack?” he repeats. Phil nods. “Oh,  _ geez _ .”

“Anyway,” Phil says, not wanting to accidentally intimidate Ranboo too much. “Techno doesn’t want you in the house — bad experiences and all — so if you’d like, you can stay with the dogs for now? I’m going to build them a kennel, back by the hill, and I’ll build you a little house back there, too. You can… keep watch over the dogs or something, yeah?”

“You’ll… build me a house?” Ranboo echoes, tilting his head to the side in confusion. His crown is lopsided, knocked askew by the dogs’ enthusiasm, probably. 

Phil shrugs. “Yeah, you’ll need some place to stay and keep your things and all.”

“I— I can build something, I don’t want to be a bother,” Ranboo starts, but Phil waves a hand.

“It’s no bother, mate,” he says. “I’ll have plenty of free time now. We’ll get you a house in no time.”

“Th-thanks,” Ranboo says, glancing at the ground. 

Phil claps him on the back. “Welcome to the Arctic, Ranboo.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yaaaay Ranboo's been adopted pog  
> I feel so vindicated for last chapter though cause when Tommy went to go beg Phil for diamonds he started talking about Phil being his canon dad and he was like "I raised mySELF" and I was like CALLED IT--
> 
> Anyway. Next chapter, Resurrection.


End file.
